


Kiss

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season 1, jealous!Fitz, old work I'm finally posting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4932466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during season 1. Fitz walks into the lab and sees something he certainly never hoped - or wanted - to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Mini RP thread originally written with BraveJem over on tumblr. Just finally getting around to posting it here now.

Leopold Fitz is a creature of habit and order.

 

He thrives on routine, something evident in his daily breakfast: cuppa, toast, oatmeal, and once he’d met Simmons whatever fruit she put before him and made him eat. It’s been the same deal for nearly ten years that they’d been working together, and it’s just one of the many routines he has. He’s aware that it might not be the healthiest of behaviors, but the little routines  helped him when he’d followed Jemma into the field; even now they make it seem more normal and much safer than it actually is to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

 

But even his routines can’t keep him stable in situations like this, when his space is invaded by outsiders. And that’s exactly who Triplett is, an outsider who has thrown off nearly all of his routines by insinuating himself into life on the Bus. It’s odd, since it doesn’t seem that one person should be able to change things so much, but he has. It feels like no matter where he goes, Fitz is tripping over Triplett… it’s as if nowhere is safe.

 

Their lab is his last refuge, and so that’s where Fitz is headed, nose buried in his tablet, looking at the latest report even at 9 am, trying to puzzle out what he needs to tell his partner about their latest round of testing. He makes it all the way from the kitchen to the cargo bay before he hits on his something that might be useful. He looks up as he reaches the sliding glass doors that separate the lab from the cargo hold, and drops his tablet in astonishment.

 

Agent Antoine Triplett is in _his_ lab, half naked after having clearly completed a physical assessment, and is kissing _his_ lab partner. The clatter of his tablet striking the floor causes the two to break apart, and hurt blue meets startled honey for the briefest of instances before Fitz turns and bolts back up the stairs, seeking the safety of his bunk.

 

Jemma had been in the middle of placing her hands on the agent’s shoulders in an attempt to get him away from her, pushing perhaps a bit too gently when the sound of the crashing tablet did the job for her. Trip jumped, pulling away from her lips and she instinctively took a step back, eyes wide and horrified both at what had just happened and that Fitz had seen it.

 

No, _no_.

 

She’d opened her mouth to tell Fitz that it wasn’t what he thought, that she hadn’t been snogging some new agent in their lab, but he’s gone before she can get a word out. Her eyes slide close and she takes a deep breath.

 

 _Shit_.

 

There were things they didn’t do, and one of those things was this. The lab was their shared space, a place for both of them to work and build and create… In all of the years they’d known each other, both having dated here and there, the lab was an unspoken neutral territory. Neither one used it for personal reasons, and she’d just completely demolished that trust. She opens her eyes and looks at Triplett, a small grimace on her face.

 

“I’m…” She swallows and tries again, moving to pick up the tablet from the floor where Fitz had dropped it, not looking at the attractive agent behind her.

 

“I’m not sure if I lead you to believe that I’m… available. But… I’m not. I’m sorry.”

 

She rushes out of the lab, feeling horribly awkward and flushed. She’s never said that before, that she wasn’t available, has never assigned that designation to herself in regards to Fitz, but it feels like the truth now more than ever. She takes the stairs to the common area two at a time, clutching the tablet to her chest and worrying that she’s just fractured something between the two of them that she won’t be able to repair.

 

The pounding of his blood fills his ears, blocking out any other noise, even inside his bunk.

 

 _She’d… they’d…_ He thought they had an understanding, even if it was unspoken. After they’d joined the team on the Bus, after the initial flirtation with Skye, after her near death due to an alien virus, they had seemed to come to an understanding: it was them, end of story.

 

They couldn’t be together in the moment, but one day, once they all had a moment to catch their breath, he and Jemma could give it a go for real… but she’d apparently grown tired of waiting for that day. He clenches his fists, torn between wanting to hit something and wanting to weep. How _could_ she? All the years of friendship and partnership, thrown aside because a pretty, well-built man happened along.

 

Fitz is ready to give in, to let his anger unleash itself, when he hears the keypad to his room beeping as his code is entered. Only one person on the Bus both knows his code and is comfortable using it.

 

He wants to tell her to go away, to get lost, to leave him be and just go kiss that bloody bastard she’d been snogging in their lab, but he can’t find the words. Instead he just stands there and waits for her.

 

She slid open his door, only to be frozen by the sight of him standing in the middle of his bunk, clearly waiting for her. Her grip tightens around the edges of his tablet and she slides into his bunk, not even asking for permission. It’s not often that she feels brave enough to hold eye contact with him for too long, unless they were in the lab, but this… She only breaks contact to slide the door closed behind her and sigh, turning back to him.

 

“It’s not what you think… He kissed me. I didn’t even know he was going to… try… Fitz…”

 

The words suddenly seem insufficient, not as important as the need to convey that she hadn’t welcomed it or wanted Triplett to kiss her, as nice and attractive as he may be.

 

It has always been Fitz. It would always _be_ Fitz. It has never _needed_ to be spoken before…

 

“I didn’t _want_ him to kiss me. I was trying to push him away, but he’s so bloody strong…” She cringed, realizing that’s probably not what he wants to hear right now.

 

A fresh spasm of anger jerks through his muscles at her words. Despite what she’s saying now, she certainly hadn’t appeared all that eager to push him away. Still, it’s Jemma, who couldn’t lie to save her life, and while she seems flustered, it’s not the same as when she’s trying to lie and failing miserably.

 

But it’s her look that does him in, the one that says she’s sorry with all her heart and implores him to listen to her. He feels his anger seep out of him, deflating slowly, and collapses to sit on the edge of his bunk. He keeps his eyes on hers, wondering if he’s foolish to feel hopeful at the look in her eye.

 

“Jemma…” He starts slowly, unsure of what to say and unwilling to snap at her, no matter how he’s feeling. “If you wan’ t’ kiss him, kiss him. It’s no’ like I have any right t’ tell you wha’ t’ do. Jus’... could you keep it out o’ th’ lab?”

 

Jemma leans back, her fingers clenching and releasing against his tablet. His words sting, deep down at the very core of her. It’s a defense, she knows, to try to cover the hurt in his eyes but it still doesn’t take away the sharp pain that spasms through her at his seemingly uncaring attitude.

 

She'd thought... She'd always thought he knew what she knew... But his reaction isn't what she'd expected given the way he'd bolted from the lab as if he'd been electrocuted. In a way, a small part of her had wanted him to be angry or at least jealous... But he wasn't. He was just clearly uncomfortable with the where it had happened, not that it had happened. Her eyes water and she has to blink it away, looking at the floor abruptly so he doesn't catch the fresh emotion there.

 

"Yes, of course." She manages to mumble out and turns to leave, because what else is there to say, before realizing that she's still holding onto his tablet. Twisting around, she holds it out to him wordlessly.

 

She hadn’t been quick enough, and Fitz knows he saw tears in her eyes. He stands in the scrunched space, his movement effectively putting him in Jemma’s personal space as he reaches for his tablet. He allows his hand to rest there, but doesn’t put any pressure on it so he doesn’t break her hold.

 

He’s seen aliens come to earth, has faced down Asgardians, has avoided explosions and death time and time again, and yet, somehow, the words he knows have to come out of his mouth are scarier than all of those things. He swallows, bracing himself for the potential for rejection.

 

“I dinnae like seein’ him kiss you, Jemma. Wouldnae matter if it was in th’ lab or not.” He holds her gaze, his heart racing beyond control, willing her to pick up on his meaning, too afraid to speak plainly lest she put his hopes to rest for good.

 

She can feel her brow furrow at his words, the meaning clear but not what she wants to hear. Sure, he doesn’t like seeing Triplett kiss her… but he was also unwilling to do so himself. Indignation bubbles up in her, a brow lifting into an arch as she stares at him.

 

Was she going to push him or let him slide back into familiar dichotomy of bouncing between the familiar and the unknown?  

 

She blinks slowly against his gaze, mind fluttering with years of memories and moments between them. He’d had the chance, multiple chances, to make a move or at least hint at something and he never has. He’s just kept her at his side, never saying a word, while she’d lived a half life... She shakes her head then, realization filling her.

 

“No,” she whispers, voice catching a little, “you’d rather _no one_ kiss me.”

 

It’s an odd statement, and even Jemma is not entirely clear as to what she means, but she doesn’t care: she’s responded in the same way he has. Roundabout and indirect, dancing around what she’d really wanted him to say.

 

Why had he not wanted Triplett to kiss her?

 

Her words punch him in the gut, heavy with the weight of her unspoken accusation that he wants her to be alone and lonely instead of with someone else. And while it’s true on some level, it’s only true because he wants to be the one that gets to snog her in the lab early on a Friday morning before anyone else wakes up and take her out on real dates and buy her things without the phrase “Section 17” being bandied about.

 

Without thinking, he tugs his tablet from her hands, and after tossing it in the general direction of his bunk, grabs her by her upper arms. He pauses there for just a second, and once he sees the faint hint of desire behind her honey-hued irises, he crushes his mouth to hers. The kiss is a bit uneven and far from being the most skilled, but it’s everything he could learn in his 26 years on earth, and he hopes it’s enough to convince Jemma to not give up on him, not just yet.

 

At first, Jemma isn’t sure what to do, how to respond. She’d just been on the verge of tears and now he was _kissing_ her. It’s hurried, almost frantic and his teeth scrape against her lips in an effort to gain access to her mouth.

 

Jemma shivers, the sudden and instinctual reaction enough to snap her out of her reverie, hands finding their way to his shoulders and then his hair, pulling him closer as she leans into him to return his enthusiasm.

 

He feels the desperation that had filled his chest shift when she responds to his kiss, diffusing into something like giddiness when she shivers against him and grants him access to her mouth.

 

He flicks his tongue out to brush against her bottom lip, groaning a bit when she grants him access. He tries to go slowly, he really does. He doesn’t want to rush this but Fitz can’t help the way his hands wander, one to wrap around her waist and another to cup her jaw, or the urge to deepen the kiss when she mewls into his mouth.  

 

His touch is warm, soft against her cheek and jaw and she leans into it even as her lips pull back from his so that she can breathe. He’s making her dizzy, her head spinning and pulse pumping through her body at an exponential rate. She’s known Fitz for years, thought she knew almost every side of him, had even seen the way he was with other girls when they’d been younger, but this was something entirely different and unexpected from him.

 

It’s taken her by complete surprise and she pulls open her eyes to look at him, delight and shock making their way through her emotions. She wants to kiss him again, but part of her wants him to open his eyes and look at her so she can see if he’s feeling the same way.

 

Fitz feels himself freeze in place when she pulls back, leaving him still holding his partner as he waits for the slap in the face he assumes is coming. He’d overstepped every boundary that was in place, and she would be well within her rights… but the slap never comes. He steels himself, deciding he needs to be brave, and opens his eyes.

 

He nearly jumps, startled by how near her eyes still are to his; she’s so close, he can see the dark brown outer ring of her irises, and the little flecks of gold that make her eyes impossibly bright. He sees a myriad of emotions flit across her face, none of them seeming to be anger or disappointment, and so, he finds himself speaking before he even thinks about what he’s saying.

 

“You’re righ’ when you say tha’ I dinnae wan’ anyone t’ kiss you, Jemma. It’s tha’ I wan’ t’ kiss you. An’, if you’ll let me, I’d like t’ keep kissin’ you.”

 

She smiles at him, at the serious tone in his voice and the look on his face, because it’s so unlike him and it’s entirely enticing, making her already muddled mind even more fuzzy. She arches a brow at him, this time in a tease, and smirks at him with light, dazed and happy eyes.

 

“It’s about bloody time, Fitz.”

 

She doesn’t wait for the look of surprise to flash across his face, for his bright blue eyes to widen, just leans upward into him again and kisses him firmly, lips slanting over his with an ease she’d never thought she’d have. He tastes faintly of peppermint, smells of the cologne he wears and something almost metallic, all of it mingling in her senses as he responds to her mouth on his, giving her access so she can sweep her tongue between his lips and tangle with his.

 

He didn’t expect her to be this aggressive, for the sweep of her tongue or the way it slid against his as he wraps his arms around her waist. None of it was what he had imagined kissing Jemma would be, nothing soft about it, just passion with a raw edge and a lingering sweetness just beneath the surface. Fitz holds her tightly, afraid that it’s a dream or a cruel joke, and that if he lets go or opens his eyes, she’ll suddenly be gone.

 

The only reason she has to pull back from his mouth is so that she can breathe, the short little inhalations through her nose insufficient for the way her heart is racing and her pulse is pounding. Resting her head against his, the tenderness of it contrasting with the heat and want she’d just kissed him with, she smiles an almost giddy smile.

 

“We should have done that ages ago.” She brushes her nose against his gently, affectionately nuzzling him and feeling full of warmth.

 

Fitz huffs out a soft bark of laughter as he processes Jemma’s words. They were very much an understatement, and he nods, the movement rolling his forehead gently against hers. Her eyes are filled with so much affection that it nearly overwhelms him, and he cannot help but wonder why he’d waited so long to do something as simple as laying his lips over her own.

 

“I dinnae plan on waitin’ tha’ long between kisses again, lass.” He punctuates his point by pressing his mouth to hers once more, and is beaming when he pulls away to look at her again. “In fac’, if I were you, I’d plan on bein’ kissed a’ least…” he looks up and bites his lip, pretending to do the sums in his head, “...30, 40 times a day?”

 

Snugging his arms about her waist a bit more tightly, Fitz kisses her as he lists all of the times he’s wanted to kiss her in the past. “Firs’ thing in the mornin’... an’ as our tea steeps… an’ after breakfas’, durin’ clean up… before we ge’ started in th’ lab for th’ day…”

 

As always, his partner picks up on his game rather quickly, and before long they’ve both dissolved into giddy laughter as they collapse onto his bunk, still listing all of the kisses they plan on sneaking in each day.

 

 


End file.
